Paint Chips Quotes & Sayings

They steered south. Gordita Beach emerged from the haze, gently flaking away in the salt breezes, the ramshackle town in a spill of weather-beaten colors, like paint chips at some out-of-the-way hardware store, and the hillside up to Dunecrest, which Doc had always thought of, especially after nights of excess, as steep, a grade everybody sooner or later wiped their clutch trying to get up and out of town on, looking from out here strangely flat, hardly there at all. — Thomas Pynchon

When I was a kid I loved wall paper it added a lot of fiber to my paint chips. — Stanley Victor Paskavich

Acheron: You're really not right, are you?
Nick: Yeah. I know. It was all the paint chips I ate as a kid. They were good, but chromosomally damaging — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Did you eat a lot of paint chips as a child? — Steven Tyler

I sat back in my wooden chair as they signed the paperwork and stared down at the arm rests, studying the various layers of paint, the chips and cracks. How many hands had gripped them? I wondered. What lives were attached to those hands, what dreams were shattered, what sorrows were they trying to squeeze out of their souls? — Jimmy Santiago Baca

You're really not right, are you?
Yeah, I know. It was all the paint chips I ate as a kid. They were good, but chromosomally damaging. (Nick) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

The treads, like his father's boots, showed signs of wear. Paint clung to them in feeble chips, mostly in the corners and undersides, where they were safe. Traffic elsewhere on the staircase sent dust shivering off in small clouds. Holston could feel the vibrations in the railing, which was worn down to the gleaming metal. That always amazed him: how centuries of bare palms and shuffling feet could wear down solid steel. One molecule at a time, he supposed. Each life might wear away — Hugh Howey

Did you eat a lot of paint chips when you were a kid? — Rob Lowe

I assume they're still there, ostriching themselves and eating paint chips, or whatever it is they do in their spare time. I — Cherie Priest

And my daughter's too smart. She gets it watching TV. She gets it. She's five. She gets it. I ... I have a smart kid; I don't want a smart kid. I'm gonna start feedin' her lead paint chips just to bring her down. — Christopher Titus

Fanning out the possibilities in front of me like paint chips - How lovely this would look on your future! — Huntley Fitzpatrick

I'm sure you were mistaken," Yaicha says to her brush.

My ears pin back -
"MISTAKEN?
I know who Angie is, Yaicha.
I know who our father is, Yaicha.
He hurts people, he hurts you, you never do anything!" My claws scrape the wall paint.

She turns with soft rabbit eyes. "He'll kill me."

"He's already doing that!"
I am growling, grabbing her sleeve, "Every day, every day he rips you open,
chips off pieces week by week, till a few years from now you are not even a mouthful of sawdust.
A drawn-out killing.
Well, I'm tired of all of us doing nothing. He has to be stopped."

Yaicha's eyes have flinched a few times but soften again. "Nobody can stop him."

My teeth show.

"Nobody can stop him? Good.
To him I have always been
Nobody. — Thalia Chaltas